


Why She Went

by QRN



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 18:45:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6340966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QRN/pseuds/QRN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sequel to 'Ask Me To Stay'. Please enjoy. All Kudos and Comments are welcomed</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Times Gone On

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to 'Ask Me To Stay'. Please enjoy. All Kudos and Comments are welcomed

"Charles?" a voice filtered through his daydream, it had been a lovely one, a memory of times gone by. She had been with him, dressed in an old shirt of his. The television had been on, but neither of them were paying any attention to it. He was holding her, his hands wrapped around her waist, his face buried in her neck. She was talking, softly, no more than a murmur

"Charles?!"

Charles snapped out of his daydream with a start, and found himself sitting at a large oak table, with several people who were all turned to look at him.

"Yes?" he asked hoping to hide the fact that he hadn't heard a word that had been said in the last fifteen minutes.

"I am confirming that you're flying to New York tomorrow?" His friend and boss, Robert Crawley asked, a hint of irritation seeping into his tone.

Charles nodded, forcing himself to sit up straight. He was supposed to be flying tomorrow to ensure that the renovations of Robert's newest acquisition were going as planned. It had been organized for months, but he felt little like going.

"Yes." He said, and that didn't seem to be enough he added "I leave tomorrow evening, and arrive back in time for the Valentines ball in two weeks time. "

The Valentines Ball. God, he would love to know what on earth possessed Robert to suggest that one. Charles knew he ought to be excited for it, Alice certainly was she had already bought a dress and everything, but he had come to hate it over the last few years.

"Excellent." Robert said, still not looking happy with Charles' answer. "Well, I think we'll leave it there for now and we'll meet again in two weeks time when Charles has something to tell us."

Charles couldn't bring himself to care that his boss was fed up with him, he was too busy trying to quell the nausea that was causing his stomach to roil.

He ignored the jibe and focused on his breathing. His tie was too tight, and the room's air-conditioning only seemed to stifle him more. He barely listened as Robert rambled on about the next meeting, and exploded from his chair as soon as Robert left the room. He gathered up his folders, and quickly left, allowing his long legs to carry him away as fast as they were able to.

"Charles. " Robert called, handing a file to his secretary as Charles swept past. Charles chose to ignore him and carried on walking, resisting the urge to break into a jog.

"Charles!"

He sighed and slowed his pace just enough to allow Robert to catch up with him.

"Where's the fire? "Robert demanded, almost having to trot to keep up with Charles's long strides. "and where exactly were you throughout that meeting? I asked you to be there to advise me, not contemplate your navel."

"I'm sorry." Charles said, stepping into the elevator and jabbing the button that would take him to the lobby. "It won't happen again."

He tugged on his tie, feeling the sweat start to bead on his forehead. He wished Robert would stop talking, he couldn't focus on what he was saying.

"Are you alright Charles?" his friend asked and Charles shot him a desperate look. A look of understanding crossed his face "another one?"

"I just need some air and I'll be fine." He said gruffly as the elevator doors slid open. Charles strode off, followed by Robert.

"Okay." Robert said "it's probably nerves about the trip." Charles resisted the urge to snort "take the rest of the afternoon off. Get some rest. Spend some time with Alice."

Charles nodded, barely hearing what his friend said. By the time he got to the front doors Robert had already pulled his phone out and was in the process of mending the fences that Charles had managed to break during that meeting. He fished out his car keys, and headed towards the staff's parking lot. He relaxed slightly on the short drive to his apartment, but he still felt as though he had drunk three cans of Redbull and a pot of coffee on top of that.

He hated that these still plagued him, the anxiety attacks that snuck up on him when he was stressed. He hated the tightness of his chest, the shaking, and the cold sweats. He hated how he couldn't focus on anything apart from the constant reminder he had to give himself to breath. Once he got to his apartment, he downed a xanax and a glass of ice water, and lay down on the couch to wait for it to take effect.

He hated his new apartment. It wasn't even new, he'd been here for over a year, but it was so different from his old one. He had hired a decorator when he'd first bought it, who had done it up like a younger man's bachelors pad. Everything was done it steel and black. It was all sharp corners, and very little comfort. He missed the light yellow walls of his old one, the warm wood and the comfortable furniture.

But everything had reminded him of her, so he had sold it all, thinking that if he didn't have the memories plaguing him, he'd finally be able to move on. He didn't know what was worse, the memories, or the coldness.

Unable to stay there any longer, he decided to go for a walk around the city. So much has changed in the last three years, a new apartment in a new city with a different woman by his side. He debated going to visit Alice, the woman who he had tried to replace _**her**_ with. He hovered briefly at the doors to the theater but decided against it. They'd had another row the night before, bringing up all the old arguments

" **I can** **'** **t compete with a ghost Charles! She** **'** **s not coming back!** **"**

They'd been speaking by the next morning but he wasn't in the mood to listen to her complain about the script writer, the director, and the set designer, so he continued to walk, not really paying attention to where he was going.

Alice was right, she couldn't compete with a ghost. It wasn't fair on her to ask for her love and yet still be in love with someone who had walked out of his life three years ago. A woman that he had loved with his heart and soul, but it hadn't stopped her from walking away or caused her to pick up the phone and call him once in the last three years.

But he couldn't break it off with Alice, because if she went he'd be desperately alone. He'd still have Robert, and he'd still see Beryl every now and then, but there would be nothing to fill a portion of the hole _**she**_ had left inside of him. It scared Charles when he thought about how much of him she had walked away with.

Someone collided with him, tearing him from his morbid thoughts and Charles looked up, reaching out to steady the young woman. She was small, with blonde hair done up in a neat bun and was visibly pregnant. She was running late for something, judging by the way she kept glancing at her watch, a small gold thing, with a photo of her and a man on the face.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry." She said in a breathless tone, "I'm so bloody clumsy at the moment."

"Its quite alright" Charles said, releasing her and stepped back from her. "Just be more careful. I'd hate for you to fall and do yourself a harm."

The blonde smiled gratefully, and glanced at her watch again. Charles took the hint and stepped to the side, and indicating that she walk past. He watched her go for a few moments, wondering what it must be like to be young, in love and starting a family. Then he turned, and the world seemed to grind to a halt. There was a poster on the wall next to him, advertising the opening of a new gallery, with photos of a few of the artists standing in front of pieces of art, that would be displaying their work there. There was a grizzly looking man, a handsome woman and a beautiful woman. But it was not them that caught Charles's eye. In the middle of the poster was a photo of a woman with dark auburn hair, and a slight smile on her face. Even in the photo, her eyes seemed to see straight through him. Her name was printed at the bottom, but he didn't even glance down to check that he was right.

He'd recognize those eyes anywhere.


	2. It Is You

He stood there for what seemed like hours, his eyes devouring the photograph. She hadn't changed much, a few more lines around her eyes, perhaps a few more strands of grey. Her smile was still the same; slight giving an air that she knew more than he ever would. He wanted to see her again, so badly that it almost hurt. Glancing at the address, he realized that the gallery was only a few streets away, and without really thinking about it he hopped into a cab and made his way there.

It never occurred to him that it would be a black tie affair. He glanced down at his suit, the one he had worn to work that morning and decided that it would have to suffice. It wasn't as though he was dressed in jeans or whatever else these teens wandered around in these days.

He paid the cover fee, thanking whatever supernatural force he could think of that he had the cash in his wallet, and stepped through the doors.

Who ever had planned the opening had done it meticulously, the lighting bringing the art into the forefront of your attention. The rest of the decor had been done with in a pale cream, so it looked warm and inviting instead of clinical.

He wandered around, stopping to look at several pieces, not wanting to look as though he was searching for her.

A piece of abstract art caught his eye and he stopped to examine it. It seemed to be a nude, nothing explicitly brought into focus though. The woman in the photo seemed to be contorted into a strange position and Charles tilted his head to try and make sense of it.

"Do you want my spot?" a woman asked him. Charles must have looked confused because she added "if you stand right here, you can see the artists signature."

"Oh. Uh sure." He stammered. The woman stepped aside and Charles stepped onto the little red cross on the floor. He peered at the painting for a while before finally being forced to ask

"Where am I looking?"

"Inner top thigh" the woman replied, before drifting off. The signature suddenly came into view, but it wasn't one that he recognized. A laugh came from behind him, followed by the tinkle of glasses being raised in toast. He knew that laugh. She had never been one for the silly giggles, unless she had had a little too much to drink. This laugh came from the belly, inhibited and pure joy. He turned to find her standing there with a weedy looking man and the woman he'd been talking to earlier.

He watched as she took a sip, before looking up and meeting his eyes. The smile died from her lips, her grip on the glass seemed to tighten. Her mouth moved to form a word that he couldn't hear from where he was standing, but somehow knew exactly what it had been.

"Charles."

* * *

 

"How's the pain?" he asked, draping a blanket over her legs. She was sitting on the couch, staring at the rain that was pounding the window. She had been out of hospital for a week now, and had insisted that she come home to her own house instead of stay with either Beryl or himself. He had been a bit upset about it, worried that the loss of Becky and Thomas would be too much for her to bare, until Isobel had pulled him aside and told him that as usual he had to let Elsie call the shots. She needed familiarity, a place that she was in her comfort zone.

She still had the cast on her leg, as well as the plasters from the skin grafts. Her ribs had healed, as had her collar bone but her body was still covered in angry red scars. He knew that some would fade, but most would mark her body forever.

"Not bad." She answered. "I mean it hurts, but not as bad as it did."

"And being back here? Are you coping?"

She shot him a look that seemed to ask 'are you my doctor now?' and Charles felt a stab of guilt. He felt so off balance with her, not knowing what to say to her. He didn't want to upset her, cause her more tears than she had already shed. She had handled it better than he had expected when they first told her, a few days after she woke up.

He had expected screaming, denial, crying. Instead she absorbed it as if she had known for weeks. It was only a few days later that it seemed to hit her, and she spent a day sobbing uncontrollably. Even so, she paid a lot more attention to what her doctors were saying, than to anything Beryl had to say about the funeral arrangements.

"It no longer feels like home." She said suddenly.

"What do you mean?" he asked, handing her a cup of tea, which she took, her expression barely changing.

"There's no laughter. No singing. No arguing. There isn't even the smell of paint."

"You haven't painted since..?" he asked tapering off

"Since the accident Charles, you might as well bloody say it." Elsie snapped. There was an awkward silence before she sighed and added. "And no, I haven't."

"Why not?" he asked, carefully shifting to face her. She looked at him over the edge of her teacup, her eyes filling with tears

"They were my inspiration Charles."

"So paint them."

He left half an hour later, after digging out her canvases and her brushes. He left them in her study, gently kissed her goodbye and drove away hoping against hope that she would find it in her to pick them up.

When he visited her again two days later the house was filled with the familiar sharp scent of paint.

* * *

 

He watched as she said something softly to her friends, before placing her glass on a nearby table and gliding over towards him. Her hair was up in a French twist, with a few curls falling around her ears softening her look. She was dressed in a floor length black dress that had silver streaks flowing through the skirt that managed to drawn attention to her slim waist. The dress had flowing long sleeves, chosen, he realized, to hide the scars that still adorned her upper arms.

"It is you." She said softly as she reached him "god. It really is you."

"Elsie." He managed to stutter out, his mouth having gone as dry as a bone. "You're looking well."

Elsie rolled her eyes, smiling up at him "always the flatterer. I didn't know you were a fan of May Chu's work."

Charles glanced back at the painting of the nude woman, and blushed.

"I'm not." He said rather forcibly, causing her eyebrows to raise "I mean, it's a beautiful piece but uhm, I'm actually here to find something to go in the lobby of the new hotel Robert is opening."

She stared at him, as if trying to figure out if he was telling her a lie and Charles felt a stab of guilt for lying. But before he could correct himself, she nodded and said

"I don't suppose that it would suit the Lobby of the Downton hotel. Might offend someone, mores' the pity. How many more hotels is Robert planning on opening? Everywhere I go there seems to be one."

Charles didn't comment on the fact that she had never stayed in one. He wasn't following her life, hadn't heard from her for almost three years. But everyone knew their story, that she was the one who changed the dependable straight laced man, into a quivering wreck. Someone would have told him.

"He's branching out into other countries now. " Charles said instead, trying to insert the note of pride that once coloured his voice into his tone "and you? How did you end up here?"

She smiled gently at him, before saying very softly

"My memories, Charles."

He looked at her, trying to figure out in what ways she had changed. She seemed more whimsical, a look of peace he never thought he'd see on her face.

"Come." She said, her hand finding a resting place on his elbow. "Let me show you."


	3. The Begining Of The End

When he first saw the paintings he stopped dead in his tracks. They were just round the corner from where he had been standing, and he would have known that they were hers even if she hadn't shown them to him.

She had painted her life. There was one of two little girls climbing a hill, another of a young woman staring out of the window, a dream like look on her face. Looking around he noticed there were several of the same person, all at different ages. There were several of a young man with dark hair, polishing a pair of shoes, laughing or leaning against a wall smoking. Some of the paintings were painted as though they were slightly out of focus; while others were so crystal clear one could almost feel the warmth from their skin. There were only two that were not of either the girl or the man.

One was of a blurry one of road, winding its way down a curvy down hill road that went through a forest, snow piling up on the banks on either side. At the one corner a green car was just coming into view. It was the scene of the accident, the one that had taken her best friend and her sister from her.

The last one was of a different man, this one as clear as day. He was staring at something in the distance, a slight smile on his face. His hazel eyes were focused, every light painted in vivid detail and he had very bushy eyebrows.

It was a painting of him.

"You painted me." He said, unable to take his eyes off the image of his face in front of him.

"And Becky and Thomas" She added, seemingly not noticing his amazement. "I painted my memories. "

* * *

 

"Do you remember me mentioning an artist called Irene Swan?" Elsie asked. She seemed quiet, lost in thought. She had been down recently, not wanting to do anything other than lie in bed and read a book, another of those depressing things she currently loved, or play card games on her laptop. He invited her to all sorts of places, the movies, the theatre anywhere he could think of. Eventually it was Isobel who had given her a stern talking to and made her get up. He didn't know what she had said, but he had thanked god that Isobel had been put on this earth when he got the text from Elsie asking if he wanted to meet somewhere.

They had gone back to the lake, him secretly hoping that a happy memory would cheer her up, when everything else was still tainted by sorrow. They had wandered round the lake, her lagging behind, and eventually settled on a bench overlooking the water.

"Of course." Charles answered "you always loved her work. Isn't the one of the cheetah on your living room wall one of hers?"

"It is." She answered, a tiny smile appearing on her lips for the first time in weeks. "She's offering a course, just for just a few people, for six months. I...I applied."

"You did? When?"

"A month ago. A week after you convinced me to start painting again. I've been accepted. It starts next month."

Charles grinned, turning on the bench, with his arm resting behind her head.

"Well of course you've been accepted, you're the best there is." He said happily before turning serious "It'll be good for you, give you a new experience and keep you busy. Plus you'll learn a lot and get to spend time with someone you've looked up to for years."

He knew he was babbling, but he couldn't seem to stop. He was a bit hurt that she hadn't consulted him, or even told him she had applied. It wasn't as though he owned her, in fact he doubted that anyone could ever own Elsie Hughes, but he didn't understand why she hadn't mentioned it earlier.

He was thrilled though, thrilled that she was trying to move on with her life despite all the pain. Anything was better than her lying in bed, barely responding to anything he or her friends said.

"Charles." She said, interrupting his increasingly boring and repetitive monolog "It's in America

So **_that's_** why she didn't tell him.

"In America?" He repeated and huffed out a sigh.

"I know it's far, but like you said, it's an amazing opportunity" She admitted "and Becky always wanted to go there so..."

"I see. Does anyone else know?"

"Isobel knows. She's the one who told me about it and encouraged me to apply...and Beryl."

"So I'm the last one you told?" Charles asked, his voice betraying the hurt that he felt "Good to know."

"Charles I'm sorry, I didn't know how you'd react and I was scared-"

"Elsie I don't want to fight with you, let's just go" He said, standing up and pulling out his car keys.  
"That's the problem Charles! You don't want to fight with me, even though I've told you I'll be leaving in a week's time for half a year! Everyone is tip toeing around me like I might break any second! I'm sick of it Charles! I'm tired of Isobel looking at me like I'm a patient; I'm tired of Beryl being afraid to talk openly with me in case she might upset me and most of all I'm tired of you treating me like a child that needs to be minded!"

"You're leaving in a week?" he asked, ashamed to admit that most of what she had said after that had gone over his head "and you're only telling me now?"

"I know, I said I'm sorry but-"

"Sorry doesn't cut it Elsie! You should have known that I would support you! We could have gone together."

"No. "She said, tears pooling in her eyes, making him feel like an utter bastard. "I have to do this by myself. I have to get away from the memories, I have to learn who I am again and I can't do that with people babying me."

"And the people that know and love you here, we're to be discarded is that it?"

"Of course not! I'd call, I'd email every day. We could Skype?"

"Skype?! Elsie, Skype isn't a relationship. Long distance relationships never work."

"We could make it work! Look what we've overcome already! If anyone could make it work god knows it's us!"

"I cannot love a face on a computer screen Elsie."

"So what are you saying Charles? That if I go, it's over between us?"

"I don't know Elsie!" he exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair "I honestly don't know."

There was a silence before Elsie drew herself up, her eyes blue stones of fury.

"You're a selfish bastard, you know that Charles." She spat, before turning on her heel and marching back to her car, leaving him to sink back down onto the bench and hate himself for the words he had just said.

He went to her house three days later, and had apologized. He helped her pack up a few boxes, and offered to mail her what she forgot.

They made love the last night she was there, the house seeming empty and hollow. She had cried when it ended, and he had held her until the sun came up. Then he drove her to the airport, and had kissed her goodbye. They exchanged emails once a day for about week, and then it dwindled to once a week, once a month and then it had all stopped. The last words reading

**"** **I miss you,**

**Charles"**

* * *

 

"Why are some fuzzy?" he asked trying to swallow the lump in his throat

"Because that's all I can remember. That's why I painted them, they started to fade and I was scared I was going to lose them completely."

"Why am I so clear?" He knew he sounded vain, but he wanted to know.

"Because I see you all the time." She answered "the one regret I have."

He turned his head sharply, staring at her while trying to work out at what point he had become something to regret. Elsie turned her head to meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry I left you. "She said "and I know I probably owe you an explanation. But I'm glad you moved on and found happiness."

Elsie gently squeezed his arm, and Charles was once again biting back his emotions, his eyes fixing on the small paint blob that marked the edge of finger nail. Then her hand was gone and she walking away from him again.

 ** _What happiness?_** He wondered, and how could she possibly believe that he had moved on? Then it dawned on him

Alice.


	4. Love, Your Lost Lover

It had been six months. Six months since her last email to him. It had been about the people she was meeting, the amazing art class she was taking and the sights she was getting to see. She had signed it 'Love Elsie'.

He had never imagined that it would be the last he ever heard of her, not when she finally seemed to be returning to her former self. But as the days and the weeks grew longer, he slowly realised that he just wasn't that important to her anymore.

He hadn't been to work in a month, having taken a week off to try and get his head together and hadn't been able to face going back and pretending to be normal. His savings were taking a bit of a knock, but Charles supposed that's what they were there for.

He knew Robert was slowly losing his patience, and would be replacing him as manger very soon if he didn't get his act together. He knew that if he was anyone else, he would no longer have a job at all. Maybe he didn't. He'd been ignoring Robert's calls.

He'd been ignoring everyone's calls actually, including Violet's, something he had never done before. He couldn't bring himself to care though; voicemail was there for a reason.

He did occasionally listen to the messages, most of them had been of little importance anyway and slowly but surely they were dwindling, until he was sure everyone would stop trying.

He had always been a tidy man, one where everything had had its place. Her place had always been slightly messy; the sign of a busy life. But, at the moment her house was being rented out to a retired couple and his was scrubbed from top to bottom every day. He couldn't stand the sound of his thoughts, but hated the idea of talking to people even more, so he cleaned. Even his oven shone.

"Hellllooooooooo?!" a voice called through the letter box. He muted the god awful television show he'd been half heartedly watching and hoped against hope that however it was would go away. He hadn't even heard the doorbell ring. He heard the person rap sharply on the door and held his breath. Then, much to his shock and horror, someone inserted a key into the lock and swung the door open.

"Oh, so you are alive." Beryl Patmore said, stepping into the house and spotting him sitting on the couch "and you've clearly been spring cleaning. The house smells like the cleaning aisle at the super market." She reached up and wiped the surface of the clock that hung in the hallway. "Not a speck. I'm impressed, most people forget the clock. Well? Aren't you going to say hello?"

"What are you doing here?" he asked instead, not moving from the couch

"Yes I'm doing fine thanks." Beryl said, removing her coat before stomping into the kitchen.

"Beryl, get out of my kitchen." He said, standing up suddenly and following her.

"Oh so you do know my name. You've lost weight." Beryl observed, opening the fridge "and no wonder, there's sweet fanny adams in here to eat. I hope you at least have two tea bags."

Before Charles knew it he was seated at the dining room table with a cup of tea in front of him and a slice of toast, smothered in jam.

"How did you get the key?" he asked, once Beryl had made herself comfortable opposite him.

"Robert's wife phoned me, remembered me from when I catered for you that time for Robert's birthday? I was surprised that she still had my number. Anyway, she said that Robert was worried about you, and that you weren't answering your phone. She wanted to know if I had heard from you, but obviously I hadn't. Then I remembered that I had Elsie's keys, and that one was labelled 'Charles' so I called her back and said I would come over and check on you."

"I don't need looking after."

"Sure you don't. That's what you've lost so much weight and your house looks like a demo model."

Charles didn't answer and sipped his tea instead. Beryl watched him for a moment before continuing to talk

"Well, seeing as you're not going to tell me how you are I might as well tell you how I am, just to fill the time."

She proceeded to tell him all sorts of details about her life that he didn't really care about. Her catering business was finally taking off, Daisy, the girl who had worked for her since she was a teen was getting married in a few months time, the man she was marrying was a lovely man, who worked at the racecourse as course manager, and was a skilled horseman in his spare time. How someone had told her to write her own cook book, after tasting her cooking at some fuction or other. It went on and on and eventually he stopped listening

"And Jimmy, you remember him? Thomas's partner? He's started a support group for people who's parents don't accept them. He's doing really well, but he still misses Thomas." Beryl finished. Charles nodded absentmindedly and Beryl sighed

"Look, I'll just go seeing as you don't want me here." She said, getting up and retrieving her bag and coat "but for god's sake Charles, get some food into this house and phone Robert."

She was halfway out the door when he finally spoke

"What about Elsie?" he asked. It was the longest sentence, and most painful he'd spoken in a long time "have you heard from her?"

Beryl paused and gave him a sad stare before swallowing and stepping back through the door

"We speak everyday Charles."

It hit him harder than he could have imagined. When she had stopped replying he had assumed she had stopped replying to everyone, that she had moved on with life and had left all the memories behind her. He never imagined that he had been the only one she had dropped.

"Goodbye Beryl." He said wearily, and waited until the door closed before heading back to bed for the rest of the afternoon.

The next day he called Robert and asked if his job was still available.

* * *

 

Sh was walking away from him again. This time it was only just across the room to have her photo taken with two of the other artists, but it felt like she was leaving him forever again.

"This will only take a minute." She called over her shoulder. She had barely walked two steps further before she turned and added "Please don't go?"

"I'll stay" he answered, still trying to find his bearings. It had been an odd night, leaving work early for the first time in his life, going for a walk and bumping into a woman he had thought he had lost years ago. He watched as she posed with the two women, a smile lighting up her face as one of them cracked a joke. She looked so much like the woman who had said goodbye to at the airport, but he didn't know anything about her any longer, didn't know what made her smile, whether she still froze chocolate or read magazines backwards. A part of him wondered if he even wanted to know, especially as he would probably never see her again.

"That's me done now" she said, wandering back over to him "I'm officially free to leave, and I don't know about you, but I'm starving. These little canapé things are nice, but they're not exactly filling."

"Well," he said awkwardly "it was nice seeing you again Elsie."

A look of hurt crossed her face, but she quickly covered it with a smile

"And you Charles" she said, stretching up on her toes to press a small kiss to his cheek. He resisted the urge to touch the place where her lips had touched his cheek as he watched her walk away.

"Charles?" she asked, turning to face him "Have dinner with me?"


	5. Alice

They had ended up in a diner. He hated diners, hated the cheapness of them, but Elsie had announced that she was starving and everywhere else was full. Plus, she had pointed out that all the cabby's seemed to stop here to eat and cabby's always knew where the best food was.

"Elsie! I wondered when I was going to be seeing you tonight, with your big opening and all."

Charles turned in time to see an elderly woman fly past him and envelope Elsie in a motherly hug. Elsie returned the hug, assuring the woman that she wouldn't be eating anywhere else as long as this place was open.

"And I see you've finally brought your boyfriend along with you. Now I know why you don't want to date my Tony." Elsie looked stricken, and opened her mouth to the correct the woman but she had already turned away, hollering to someone in the back that 'Picasso' was here and to get a pot of coffee out here pronto.

"Sorry about that." Elsie said, not meeting Charles's eye "she's a lovely woman, just a bit excitable at times."

"Does Beryl know you eat here?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation light. He wondered if Elsie did in fact have a boyfriend, or if it was just the woman teasing her. He wasn't sure which one he preferred.

"God no" Elsie replied "you know how she ruins restaurants. Remember that time we all went to that Italian place and she made Becky cry by prodding her spaghetti and asking if it was pure E-coli or if there was Salmonella mixed in? The only place that she was never rude about was Downton Hotel."

"Only because she was after my Chef." Charles said, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips "She got him too, in the end. Never worked out how she did it, but his Aunt was furious."

"That's sounds like Beryl." Elsie laughed, before leaning back as the elderly woman placed a pot of coffee in front of her, along with two cups, milk and a bowl full of sugar.

"Thank you." Charles said as his own cup was slid in front of him.

"Now Picasso, I already know what you'll be having to eat, but can I get anything for the boyfriend?" The elderly woman asked

"I'll have whatever she's having." Charles said, not wanting to make a fuss. The woman nodded and sauntered off again.

"Picasso?" Charles asked raising an eyebrow.

"Because I paint." Elsie supplied "everyone has a nickname. I'm sorry that yours happens to be 'boyfriend.'. It's only because I won't date her son, Tony, so she assumes that I'm already seeing someone. I'm not though. I don't even know why I'm telling you all this."

"It's alright." Charles said, bemused at her gabbling. Elsie had never ever babbled before. She had always been direct and to the point. He wasn't used to this nervous Elsie in front of him.

"You're seeing someone though aren't you?" she asked. "are you sure she won't be upset that you're here with me?"

"I am. Alice. I'm assuming Beryl told you that." Charles said, a lot more harshly than he had intended "and no, she won't mind. She's performing tonight anyway."

**_And probably screwing one of her co-stars after that_ **

"Beryl mentioned she was an actress." Elsie said, slowly pouring herself a cup of coffee "I hope to meet her one day."

* * *

 

He had first met Alice at a party. It had been for Cora's birthday and it held at their home instead of the hotel, and for once Charles was there as a guest instead of as staff. He hadn't always liked Cora, had found her annoying when she and Robert had first started dating but these days he had grown to love her like a sister. So he had made himself get dressed and go, even though he was probably going to be the only single one there.

He had been seated next to Alice, who was an old school friend of Cora's. It didn't take him long o discover that both woman on either side of him were both single, and had been seated next to him on purpose. Yet he found Alice interesting. She had a multitude of funny stories to share, was quick and witty and was not ashamed of who she was.

Most importantly she was the polar opposite of Elsie. She had short blonde hair, large brown eyes and an American accent. She was tall, almost as tall as Charles himself and tended to be a bit dramatic. A few years ago, there would have been no way Charles would ever have been attracted to her, but there was something about her that kept him interested.

Once the dinner was over they had both stepped outside, her to smoke and him because he had nowhere else to go.

"You're the one whose girlfriend was killed in that accident aren't you?" she had asked after a long pull from her cigarette.

"She wasn't killed." Charles said, "She was the only survivor."

"So why isn't she here then?"

Of all the questions to ask, she had to ask that one. The one that he couldn't answer.

"I don't know." He had answered honestly "she went away on a course and I haven't heard from her for nearly a year now."

He expected the sympathetic noises that most people made when they heard their story, but instead Alice had nodded sagely

"Things like that, they change you." She said, turning to look at him "you end up leaving people behind that you love. You move on, trying to get away from the bad memories. Which is fucking selfish, because the people that are left behind are always there, wondering what changed. Until one day they realize that there's nothing you can do but move on as well."

It had struck him hard, how this perfect stranger seemed to be the only person who understood how he was feeling. So he had kissed her, right there on Robert's balcony.

She had tasted of wine and smoke, so very different from the sweetness of Elsie. She had held him tightly, pulled him towards her almost aggressively, and somehow he had ended up in her bed that night, believing he had finally found a way to forget. He had moved in with her a week later, sold his apartment and before he knew it he was following her halfway across the country, in search of her next role, and he was opening yet another hotel for Robert.

Alice was someone who burned so brightly it hurt to look at her at times. She was almost fifteen years younger than him, and sometimes he battled to keep up with her. She was always on the move, always searching for the next high. She wanted a baby, so badly that it became the only thing she ever talked about. He didn't want a baby. He was too old, too broken to think of bringing a new life into the world. The arguments had started, sometimes so bad that vases got broken and plates got thrown. Elsie always being blamed for what was going wrong between them, he never was sure which one of them brought her up but it always came down to the same line.

**"** **I can't compete with a ghost Charles. She's never coming back! It's time to move on!"**

It came as no surprise when he started hearing about the affairs.

* * *

 

They had fallen into silence as they drank their coffee. He took the opportunity to study her. She still looked like Elsie, except she didn't seem as sure of herself as she used to be.

But she was still the steady flame, the level headed person who thought out everything in advance. Except this. She wouldn't have had time to plan this out, and maybe that was the reason she wasn't so steady.

"Elsie." He said quietly, pushing his cup away and leaning forward "what are we doing here?"

She looked up, surprised.

"I don't know Charles." She sighed, mirroring his movement in pushing her own cup away "I guess when I saw you tonight, I realized I never gave you an explanation"

"Are you going to give me one now?"

"I'm going to try."


	6. Explanations

He wondered for a moment if she was going to stall. She was fidgety, her hands moving from her neck, to her hair, to her arms, fluttering nervously as though she didn't know quite what to do with them. She eyes darted to the door and he wondered wildly if she was going to bolt, run away and never look back. But then she took a calming breath and moved her cup out of the way, facing him directly like she used to before everything had gone south.

"I didn't intend to cut you out." She told him carefully, her voice slow and hesitant "When I left I believed that we were going to be forever, just like we had said."

"So what happened?" He asked, matching her tone. Charles knew that this had the potential to blow up in their faces, her with her fiery temper when cornered and him with his complete lack of understanding woman, much less her. So he reminded himself over and over again to remain calm, until it became a mantra in his head. One wrong move, and she would be gone and he would be left wondering again.

"I don't exactly know." She admitted "I got on that plane with every intention of coming back as soon as the course was over. But when I got there, everything changed. People were listening to me because of what I could paint, instead of what had happened in the accident. No one knew my story; no one was looking at me with pity in their eyes. So I joined other courses, began working again, and began **_living_** again."

"You felt free." He said simply "Nothing was weighing you down."

"Exactly!" Elsie said, giving him a small smile

"So I was holding you back?" He asked, his tone coming out harsher than he intended. He reminded himself to stay calm again, but the pain and anger seemed to hover at the surface, desperate for a reason to bubble over.

"No of course not." Elsie insisted, her eyes pleading with his to believe her "that wasn't what I meant at all. But it just became easier to not reply to your emails. I hated myself for it, but I hated how I would feel coming back from a wonderful class and reading an email telling me how my old life was moving on, even though I wasn't there. It brought back all the memories Charles. It hurt so much, remembering. So I simply stopped."

"You didn't cut Beryl out." Charles pointed out coldly. "I'm guessing you didn't cut Isobel out either. Was there another man?"

She was quite for a moment, and Charles held his breath.

"No. " Elsie finally answered "at least not then. A few months into the course, I bumped into Joe again. He was recently widowed and well...we **_comforted_** each other. It didn't last though."

Charles felt as though he had been plunged into a bath of cold water. He had thought that it might have been easier to bare, easier to understand if there had been a better man that she had fallen for. Yet it seemed to cut deeper than anything else. He should have been the one to comfort her, to help her get her life back on track. He had told himself over and over again that another man was the reason but to hear that he had been right, or almost right, made him want to slam his fists into something.

"Don't look like that." Elsie pleaded, reaching a hand out to rest it on his arm. He jerked and she quickly withdrew it "It wasn't your fault. You were amazing Charles, and I was a fool to think Joe could offer me anything more than you did."

"You knew I was waiting." Charles said, hating the pain that coloured his tone, the bitterness that seemed to seep out.

"I know. But all I could think of was-"

She was interrupted by the elderly woman placing a plate of food in front of them each, and fussing with the cutlery until a man Charles assumed was her husband called her away, shouting that she shouldn't try to eavesdrop.

Charles looked down at his plate of waffles, smothered in rapidly melting icecream and chocolate sauce. He recognized it as Elsie's comfort food, the unhealthiest thing she could find. He wondered how often she needed comfort food that they knew exactly what she wanted without having to ask.

"When we were together after the accident, all I could think about was how I never told Becky about you. How much she hated it when we kept things from one another, yet I had hidden one of the most important things in my life from her." Elsie continued once she was sure the woman was out of earshot. "Thomas knew, and while you two didn't always see eye to eye, he understood. I never gave Becky that chance."

"You did it to protect her." Charles said softly

"Did I though? Or did I do it because I was terrified that she wouldn't approve?"

"Of course you didn't." Charles insisted "you might have been the world's worst girlfriend, but you were the best sister Becky could have asked for."

Elsie stared at him as though she had been slapped before hunching over her plate

"I deserved that." She admitted with a shrug. There was a long silence before she looked up again. "I'm sorry" she said "I know that won't fix anything and that after tonight we'll probably never see another again, but I wanted you to know that. I'm so sorry."

He had often wondered if it would come to this, if he ever saw her again. Once he realized that she was never coming back he had often imagined what it would be like if she apologized. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I left you broken, I'm sorry that I never called. He had never been able to imagine his reaction though. Would he be angry? Hurt all over again? Or would he even care at all? Would all the pain suddenly disappear?

It turns out that nothing changed. He didn't feel a weight being lifted from his shoulders, a sense of relief that it wasn't his fault. He looked at her fragile face, looked past the mask she had perfected over the years and saw her for what she really was. A woman who had made mistakes, because everything had been ripped away from her in a split second. And so he let it go. He wondered if he was really letting it go, or if he was realizing that he had forgiven her a long time ago, and hadn't wanted to admit it to himself.

"Apology accepted." He said, surprising both of them. "There's no point living in the past, is there?"

"No I suppose not." Elsie replied in a quiet tone. They sat awkwardly for a few moments, before he decided to start on his food. Most of the ice-cream had melted by now, and the waffle had gone a bit chewy on the edges but it still tasted amazing. She followed suite, and in a short amount of time they both found themselves halfway through their food.

He never thought he would ever end up having a desert dinner with Elsie Hughes again. They had both changed so much on the day of the accident, as had all those around them. Isobel had become even more protective, Beryl more cautious, Elsie and himself more terrified than ever. He wondered if Thomas's family had gone through the same, once their little boy had been taken as suddenly as Becky and the old Elsie had. Had they changed as well?

"What happened to them?" He asked, partly to break the silence and partly because he wanted to know. "Thomas's family?"

Elsie's face hardened as she put her knife and fork down. She took a sip of her coffee before answering.

"I don't know." She said harshly "I don't really care, because they didn't deserve to have him as a son. They didn't even attend his funeral. I went to see them you know? About a year ago. I told them what a wonderful person their son had been, and how my life would never be the same without him. Jimmy came with me, wanting to meet the parents of the man he loved. We both told them stories about him, our favourite memories."

"And what happened?" Charles asked, a slight frown on his face.

"They said that their son had died a long time ago." She replied bitterly. "And that the man I spoke of had nothing to do with them. I told them that they were a disgrace as parents and never went back. I got an email from his older sister a few days later, thanking me. I sent her a few photos I had of him but I never got a reply."

Charles reached across and grasped her hand, squeezing gently.

"I'm sorry. "he said and she replied with a grateful smile. They sat like that for awhile, hands gently clasped on the table in front of them, before he caught sight of the time.

"I have to go." He said, almost reluctantly. "I have an early flight tomorrow."

He knew he shouldn't but he liked sitting there with her, the warmth of her arm providing proof that she was really their and not another dream. Elsie nodded and called for the bill, which was deposited on their table in a hasty fashion. After a short argument over who paid for what, they ended up splitting the bill, before he followed her out of the diner.

They waited together for a cab, arms barely touching, chatting about things that mattered to neither of them. Eventually one drew up and he opened the door for her. She turned to him before she got in.

"We could share?" She offered. It was tempting, so tempting to spend a few more moments in her company for probably the last time ever. But he knew it was a dangerous road to walk down, so he thanked her and declined. He had every intention of walking away right then and there, if she hadn't reached up and tugged his head down to place a soft kiss to his cheek. It was a combination of her warm hands, and the scent that was so distinctly **_her_** that made him turn his head ever so slightly and press his lips to hers. He might have still been able to walk away, if she hadn't kissed him back.


	7. The Following Morning

The room was lighter than he was used to, the sun hitting him directly in the face and turning the world a peculiar shade of orange. He wondered he'd forgotten to draw the curtains when he went to bed, and then dismissed the thought immediately as he pulled the duvet further over his face. Despite successfully eliminating the blinding glare, he slowly woke up and realized that the light wasn't the only thing that was different.

The bed was softer, warmer, and smaller and the sheets didn't feel like **his**. He stretched, used to having a full king sized bed to take up by himself but instead of the usual cold, empty left hand side on the bed he was met with warm soft skin. He couldn't remember the last time he had woken up with Alice in the bed next to him. He carefully started to pull her towards him, before his mind registered that the waist he was holding didn't feel like Alice. Nor was the Vanilla and Lavender perfume hers.

Carefully he opened his eyes and was met with the view of pale skin, a shoulder with a scar that was half covered with strands of dark auburn hair. And then it all came back to him.

The panic attack, her face on the poster, rushing to the art exhibit, that elegant dress that had fitted her like a glove. The desert dinner at the tiny little diner and listening to her talk for hours. Her vulnerability, something so new to him and yet she wore it as well as she wore everything else. Her smile, still the same but twinged with a sense of sadness. The way she had spoken about her sister and Thomas. How he had walked with her outside and opened the door to her cab.

She was still the same person, underneath it all. She was still the woman he had fallen in love with...the woman he had probably never stopped loving.

So he had kissed her. Not the perfunctory kiss on the cheek or a peck between friends, but a real breath taking, heart pounding, show stopping kiss. And miracles of all miracles she had kissed him back. Perhaps he had meant it to be a final goodbye. But after standing there for what felt like no time at all the cab driver had eventually lost it and told them both to get in the cab and to direct him to a room, and much to his surprise he had obliged and done what the man had suggested.

He couldn't take her back to the apartment he shared with Alice, so they had ended up in her hotel room. A room that was by no means the Downton Hotel, but was still perfectly adequate.

They had barely gotten through the door when she was in his arms again, and he had stopped thinking altogether when he was suddenly undoing the back of her dress and she had her hands down his trousers, touching him in a way that was so familiar yet so new and exciting.

It had been hard a rough, something that he had never done before. Each was claiming the other, marking them with nails, lips and teeth. They clung together as they both rode out the waves of pleasure and he had gently kissed her as they came down from their high. He must have fallen asleep around then, his final thought being that nothing had changed. They still fit together perfectly, like they always had.

Robert was going to have a fit when he found out about this. Of course, he would have to wait until Charles got back from New York. New York. Charles loosened his grip on Elsie, rolled over slightly to see the clock on the bedside table and swore loudly when he realized that it was almost quarter to nine.

"Charles? What's the matter?" Elsie had woken up and was now looking at him through sleepy eyes.

"It's quarter to nine." He informed her as she stretched like a cat, yawning as she did so "and I'm supposed to be at the airport in less than an hour."

Elsie froze and swore loudly as well. Before she could do anything else he had already climbed out of bed and was rushing around trying to find his clothes. She quickly joined him, handing him his shirt as he grappled with his trousers, and hurried towards her cupboard.

"I'm supposed to be at the gallery. We have a reporter coming in today, and I promised to be there. I'm so sorry Charles; I can't even offer you a cup of tea!"

He quickly buttoned the shirt and stuffed his tie into his pocket. His hair probably looked as though it had been electrified, and he had no idea where his cufflinks were but he'd worry about that later. Elsie caught his eye, smirked, and tossed her hairbrush at him. With a rueful smile he quickly dragged the bristles through his hair. She ducked into the bathroom and emerged five minutes later, looking as though she had spent hours on her appearance. He shook his head, and grabbed their coats, handing her beige one to her as they hurried out the door.

The elevator ride down was quiet, both of them mentally preparing themselves for the walk of shame through the lobby, until she spoke in a meek voice, so unlike her own.

"Was this a mistake Charles?" she asked, drawing her coat closer around her "I know it wasn't planned and neither of us were really thinking straight, but was it a mistake?"

Charles turned to look at her, only to find her already watching him

"No. It wasn't. Not for me anyway."

Elsie nodded and bit her lip, not quite meeting his eyes

"What about Alice?"

"I never said this wouldn't be messy, Elsie." He answered softly, grazing the side of her cheek gently with his knuckles "But this wasn't a mistake. I love you, and I don't think I ever stopped. I love you."

"Charles-"

"Shush." He said, placing a finger to her lips "don't answer that. I'm not free to be loved by you, and I don't want you feeling pressurized into saying it back especially if you don't mean it. I have to go now; the plane won't wait for me. But I will be back from New York just before Valentine's Day. There's a fancy do at the Downton. If you love me, and you think we have a chance together, come to it. Seven o clock, in the main ballroom. If you come, I'll be waiting for you. And if you don't, then I wish you well Elsie."

"But-"she tried again and this time he silenced her by pressing his lips to hers in a sweet kiss.

"Goodbye Elsie." He said gently. And then he was gone.

* * *

Charles checked his watch a hundred times on the cab ride home to his apartment. He was late, later than he had ever been in his life. And there was still so much to do before he left.

The cabbie dropped off at his apartment and after paying, Charles took a deep breath and let himself inside.

Alice was sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette and watching a reality tv show. She turned as he opened the door and quickly tried to put the cigarette out.

"I thought I asked you not to smoke those things inside." He said as he walked through the door, pulling his tie out from his pocket and draping over a chair.

"I thought you had left." She answered "where were you all night?"

"That's a bit rich coming from you." Charles replied "the one who is ** _never_** home."

Alice narrowed her eyes and stood up, folding her arms in front of her

"Okay, what's going on?"

Charles ran his fingers through his hair, and sighed before looking up at her

"I found her, Alice. Elsie. I found her."

Alice didn't say anything and nodded gravely

"I guess it was only a matter of time." She said eventually and Charles did a double take

"You knew she was in town?"

"Of course I knew! How could I not, with her face on every single poster?! Reminding me day and night that I will never be what she is? All I'll ever be is one of the background characters, whose face is never on a poster. The girl who is easily forgotten! God Charles, why do you think I sleep around? Because it's nice to know that I'm noticed!"

There was an awkward silence as Alice finished her tirade. She turned away from him and sighed

"I'm sorry." She said "I shouldn't have kept it from you. I'll have moved out by the time you get back from New York."

"Keep the apartment." Charles said, and she turned in surprise "I never really liked it anyway. I'll get Robert to hire a removal company and they'll come and collect my stuff."

"Okay." Alice said quietly. "Thank you."

Charles nodded, unsure of what to say. Eventually he said nothing, and instead turned and hurried towards the shower. He really did need to get on that plane.


	8. The End

**Anyway, if you have a moment please review. I hope you enjoy this final chapter.**

Charles stood in the middle of the grand hall of Downton Hotel and surveyed Cora's work. He had to admit that while she wasn't always his favourite person her sense of style was superb. She had spent the last six months planning this evening with Violet, and after many arguments, break downs and on one occasion ornaments thrown, they had finally pulled together to make the room look like a fairytale.

The room itself had always been cream and gold, but now the hundreds of tables for two were done in gold table clothes, with shining silver cutlery and a red rose at the centre of each table. The lighting had been dimmed, giving the room a more intimate feel, and soft music was playing in the back ground.

The Valentines dinner and ball wasn't meant to start for at least an hour, but Charles had gotten there early to ensure everything was in shape, and to update Robert on his recent trip to New York, which had been more of a success than he had imagined it would have been.

The two men were currently standing on the stage that had been set up in the one corner. A band would be playing after the dinner, but they were still up in their hotel room.

"So you say we should be able to open sometime next year?" Robert asked, surveying his family's work with an obvious expression of pride on his face.

"Providing that they're still willing to sell, and haven't received a better offer by next week then I don't see why not. "Charles answered. Robert nodded, and stepped off the small stage, proceeding to walk around the tables instead. With a sigh, Charles followed him

"It will need a lot of redecorating of course, to bring it up to Downton's standards, and we'll need staff and everything. I would also suggest you hire someone to oversee the remodelling. I can't afford to be leaving my post here every five minutes to fly to New York to check up on them."

"I imagine Alice would be quite annoyed if you were jetting off every other week." Robert remarked with a smirk. "I'm glad to see that leaving early a week ago did you some good, as well as the trip overseas. You finally stopped looking like there's something hiding under your bed. Where is Alice anyway? I would have thought she would be here with you already? Or has she still got something on at the theatre? "

"It was a good trip." Charles answered carefully, choosing to ignore the questions about Alice. He hadn't heard from her since he left, and didn't plan too. In the end, he had asked Tom Branson instead of Robert to go and retrieve his things, as he felt it might be uncomfortable for Robert. He still hadn't gotten around to telling his friend that he and Alice were no more "and the half day off really helped clear my head. Thank you."

Robert didn't answer as he reached up to tug on his bowtie

"I don't understand why woman insist we wear these things." He grumbled. "They're bloody uncomfortable."

"So don't tie it so tightly." Charles chuckled, earning himself a glare from his friend and boss

"If I don't, then it flops to the side and my mother goes berserk. I don't understand what's so important about them. They make us look like penguins, who decided to stop for a drink on the way back to the South Pole."

"Very handsome penguins though, if I may say so." A voice said from behind them "and I'm sure Cora will make it up to you this evening. She must know you hate the things."

Robert turned towards the voice, a welcoming smile on his face which dropped as soon as he realized who had spoken.

"Elsie" he breathed. Charles looked up from where he was inspecting a napkin and spun round.

"Hello Robert." Elsie answered with an uncomfortable smile on her face "you're looking well."

There was a moment of silence as both men took in the woman standing in front of them. She was dressed in a deep red dress, which brought out the highlights in her hair and clung to her curves. It had wide enough straps on the shoulders to hide her scars, and a slit to the knee up the one leg, revealing the sky high heels she had on.

Robert's eyes took in her appearance, before his expression changed to one of fury

"How dare you walk in here after years, years Elsie, of absence like nothing has changed?!" He thundered. Elsie took a hasty step back from him as he continued his tirade "Do you have any idea the hurt you caused by vanishing? The confusion? And now you just waltz in here, like nothing has changed? You've got some nerve my gal. "

"Robert." Charles said, stepping next to his friend, who ignored him

"I think you better leave. "Robert continued, as though Charles hadn't said a word "because neither Charles nor I want anything to do with you. He's moved on, found a lovely girl to settle down with, and he doesn't need you to ruin his life again."

"Robert." Charles said more harshly, noticing how Elsie had by now wrapped her arms around herself and was awkwardly chewing her lip "I asked her to come."

"I actually cannot believe- I- wait. You what?" Robert said, finally pausing his rant to stare at Charles "When?"

"Before I left for New York." Charles supplied "we...ran into one another."

Robert stared at him in disbelief as the door opened and Mary, Cora, and Violet entered the room. There was a soft gasp from Mary who was taking in the decorations, a muttered curse word from Violet as her dress got snagged on her clutch and a stunned silence from Cora who had spotted Elsie.

"Elsie?" she called, recovering from the shock "is that really you?"

Elsie didn't answer and Cora strode across the room to wrap her arms around Elsie.

"I can't believe it's really you!" she exclaimed, hugging Elsie so tightly she could barely breath "I didn't even know you were coming!"

"I think I better go." Elsie said softly, gently untangling herself from Cora's embrace "It was a mistake to come. I'm sorry."

She backed off quickly as Cora whirled round on her husband.

"Robert, what did you say?"

"What did I say?" he spluttered indignantly "why is it automatically my fault? Maybe Charles is the one who told her to go away! He's moved on."

"I'm sorry." Elsie muttered again, nearing the door.

"Robert. "Charles barked "shut up."

With that he strode towards Elsie, grabbed her arm, and pulled her out of the ballroom, nearly knocking Violet over as he went. He released her once they got into a deserted corridor.

"I'm sorry. " Charles said "I should have told Robert you might be coming. "

"Why didn't you?" Elsie asked, peering up at him from under her lashes. Her arms were still wrapped around herself, and she was chewing on her bottom lip for all that she was worth. Charles sighed, and lent against the wall, privately thinking that he was in desperate need of a drink.

"I didn't want to get my hopes up." He mumbled "I couldn't bare the disappointment of losing you again, when I'd just found you again. Besides, you're early."

Elsie sighed and lent next to him on the wall.

"I know." She said "but I also knew that if I was a minute late, you would think I wasn't coming and I couldn't bare the thought of disappointing you again."

There was a brief silence, before Charles moved to stand in front of her.

"So why did you come Elsie? I know I asked you to come if you thought we had a chance, but I don't want you to run away again. I don't think I could take it a second time."

"I came because I want us to work. "Elsie said quietly "but I can't promise not to run again Charles. I'm broken, and I don't always trust myself let alone anyone else. But if you're willing to try, then so am I. I should never have run away, and I can't promise I won't get scared and run from you again. You have to promise me that you won't let me leave. Carry me up the stairs and lock me in the spare bedroom if you must."

"This isn't going to be easy is it?"

"No, its not."

"We might find we no longer fit into one another's lives like we used to." He remarked

"We might." Elsie agreed "We might also be killed by a bomb, or get hit on the head by a coconut. Its a risk we'll have to take."

Charles smirked slightly and raised an eyebrow

"A coconut, huh?"

"Oh shut up" Elsie said, lightly smacking his chest "I mean that no matter what happens, if you want me, you can have me. Warts and all."

"I want you Elsie." Charles said resting his hand on the nape of her neck and drawing her closer. "very much."

When he kissed her it was nothing like the kisses they had shared a week ago. Those had been rough and angry. This kiss was a promise. A promise that no matter what he would love her until the end of his days.

There would be hard times. The month of the accident was always hard on her, and the year it coincided with Charles's heart attack was the first time Elsie even considered running away again.

Charles never had another panic attack again, until he was in his sixties and they had a month's worth of waiting to find out if his wife had cancer.

It took Robert almost a year to forgive her and welcome her back. But when his son in law was killed Elsie was the first person other than his wife that he turned to.

They both had their scars, on their bodies and their souls but they muddled through together. One day, while sitting on the porch of the small cottage he and Elsie now owned, watching their friend's children and grand children play in the garden he wondered how they had managed to make it work, when at a time it had seemed so hopeless. As he watched her carry out a tray of lemonade the reason suddenly came to him.

Because he loved her, with all her broken pieces.

And she loved him. Because he held her together.

And because neither of them could see a penguin or a coconut without catching each other's eye and laughing.

**_The End._ **


End file.
